Chapter 1: The Money for My Eyes
The first thing I saw when I came home from my eye appointment was a red sports car sitting in our driveway.
The second thing I saw was my stepbrother Tyler standing beside it, grinning like he had just won the lottery.
And the third thing I realized was that the money my father and I had spent years saving for my eye treatment was probably gone.
“Nice car,” I said, slowly getting out of my father's vehicle.
“Whose is it?””
Tyler ran a hand over the shiny red hood.
“Mine.””
I stared at him.
Tyler was twenty-four years old, unemployed for the third time that year, and had somehow managed to turn every opportunity our parents gave him into another financial disaster.
He had borrowed money from relatives, broken two phones, wrecked his previous car, and once convinced my father to pay his rent after spending his paycheck on sports betting.
He had never bought anything expensive with his own money.
“Where did you get it?”” I asked.
Before he could answer, my stepmother Vanessa walked out of the house carrying a glass of iced tea.
“Isn't it beautiful?”” she said.
I looked at her.
“Where did Tyler get forty thousand dollars?””
Vanessa took a slow sip.
“Don't start interrogating people, sweetheart. It's a beautiful afternoon.””
That was when my stomach tightened.
My father, Michael, had been driving me to the specialist that morning. He had taken a half-day off work because my eyesight had been deteriorating, and the doctor wanted to discuss a procedure that could prevent further damage.
The treatment wasn't optional forever.
The specialist had explained that delaying it could make the situation considerably worse.
For nearly four years, Dad and I had been preparing for it.
He had worked overtime at the construction management company where he was employed. I had taken weekend shifts at the public library, babysat neighborhood children, and saved every birthday check my grandmother sent.
Whenever I wanted something, I reminded myself that seeing clearly was more important.
The account had almost forty thousand dollars.
I had even stopped buying coffee outside because every little expense mattered.
And now Tyler had a sports car.
Dad stepped out of the driver's seat.
His eyes went straight to the vehicle.
“Vanessa,” he said.
“What's going on?””
She smiled.
“Surprise! Tyler finally got something nice for himself.””
Dad didn't smile back.
“How much did it cost?””
Tyler shrugged.
“Forty grand, give or take.””
Dad's expression changed.
“Where did you get forty thousand dollars?””
Tyler glanced at Vanessa.
She immediately stepped forward.
“Michael, don't embarrass him. He's been having a difficult time, and I decided to help.””
“With what money?””
Vanessa's smile disappeared.
“Can we discuss this inside?””
Dad didn't answer.
He walked past her.
I followed him.
The savings account folder was inside his home office, in the bottom drawer of his desk. He had always kept the information there because he believed the money was safer when only he could access it.
He opened his laptop.
His fingers moved across the keyboard.
Then he stopped.
I watched his face.
First, confusion.
Then disbelief.
Then something I had never seen in my father before.
Fear.
“Dad?””
He didn't answer.
He refreshed the page.
The balance remained unchanged.
Almost nothing.
“Where is it?”” I whispered.
Dad swallowed.
“The account is nearly empty.””
I gripped the edge of his desk.
“No. That can't be right.””
He turned the laptop toward me.
The transaction history showed several transfers made over three days.
$8,000.
$12,800.
$14,000.
And another $5,000.
Total: $39,800.
My treatment money.
Four years of overtime.
Four years of skipped vacations.
Four years of telling myself I could wait until the procedure was fully funded.
All gone.
Vanessa appeared in the doorway.
“Michael, don't overreact.””
Dad slowly turned toward her.
“Thirty-nine thousand, eight hundred dollars.””
She folded her arms.
“Tyler was facing serious financial pressure. I did what a mother had to do.””
I stared at her.
“You used my medical savings?””
Vanessa looked almost annoyed.
“Don't make this sound worse than it is.””
“Worse than it is?”” I repeated.
“You're young,” she said.
“You can wait a little longer. Tyler needed help immediately.””
I felt something hot rise behind my eyes.
“It's not your decision whether I can wait.””
“Watch your tone.””
“My eyesight is getting worse!””
Tyler appeared behind her, holding his car keys.
“Can everybody calm down? It's not like I asked her to steal anything.””
Dad looked at him.
“You knew where the money came from?””
Tyler shifted his weight.
“I knew she was saving for something.””
“Something?”” I whispered.
“My eye surgery.””
He looked away.
Vanessa immediately stepped between us.
“Tyler made mistakes. He needed help. He's my son.””
“And I'm his daughter,” Dad said.
The room went silent.
Vanessa's face hardened.
“Your daughter has always had everything handed to her.””
I stared at her.
Everything?
My mother had died when I was nine. Dad had raised me alone until he married Vanessa five years later.
I had never expected her to love me like her own child.
I had only expected her not to hurt me.
Dad scrolled through the transactions again.
“Twenty-three thousand went to an online betting account.””
Tyler's face went pale.
“Dad—”
“You gambled with money taken from your stepsister's medical fund?””
“I was going to win it back!””
Vanessa raised her voice.
“He was desperate! You know how difficult things have been for him.””
Dad looked at her.
“You transferred the money.””
She said nothing.
Then Dad noticed the final transaction.
Five thousand dollars.
Two days before the car appeared.
“What's this?”” he asked.
Vanessa's expression changed.
“Nothing.””
“Five thousand dollars isn't nothing.””
Tyler shook his head.
“That wasn't me.””
Vanessa turned sharply toward him.
“Tyler, stop talking.””
Dad noticed the exchange.
He tapped the transaction and called the bank.
I stood beside the desk, listening to the automated voice and the faint sound of the customer service representative.
Dad gave them his details.
Then he asked them to confirm the recipient.
His expression became increasingly disturbed.
Finally, he ended the call.
“Who received the last five thousand?”” I asked.
Dad looked at Tyler.
Then at Vanessa.
“The bank confirmed the name attached to the final transfer.””
Vanessa's lips parted.
Tyler backed toward the hallway.
Dad took one step forward.
“Tyler,” he said quietly, “why was the missing five thousand dollars sent to the man who sold you that car?””
Tyler dropped his keys.
May you like
And Vanessa whispered something that made my father turn toward her in disbelief.
“Because that man wasn't supposed to tell anyone.””
